


The Librarians and the Brew Pub

by aggiepuff, Whedonista93



Series: The Librarians and the Crossover [2]
Category: Leverage, The Librarian (Movies), The Librarians (TV 2014), The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Returns (2001), The Mummy Series, The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor (2008)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Eliot Spencer and Jacob "Jake" Stone are Brothers, Eliot Spencer and Jacob "Jake" Stone are Twins, Evy was the Librarian, F/M, Immortal O'Connells, Immortality, Immortals, Original Characters - Freeform, Post-Canon, Rick was her Guardian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 13:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20447735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aggiepuff/pseuds/aggiepuff, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whedonista93/pseuds/Whedonista93
Summary: Eliot learns the hard way that someone finally taught his baby brother how to throw a punch.





	The Librarians and the Brew Pub

“Would you listen to me for once in your miserable life?”

“Why in the hell should I listen to you?”

“Because I’m a genius, pop. I’m a genius! I speak nine different languages, and I can read over a dozen more! I have honorary degrees at universities on four different continents! I-I’m the first one they call when they discover a new piece of art! And I’m the one they’re scared to call because I’m the best in the world at discovering a fake. And I didn’t tell you because I knew that you’d see anything less than chasing the family business as a betrayal, and even though I don’t want this life, I couldn’t live with the fact that’s the way you’d feel.” His chest heaved, the weight of years and years and years of resentment and rage filling the air between them. He swallowed. “I’m sorry I lied to you all those years.”

* * *

At Leverage HQ, Eliot’s office walls are lined with framed first pages of dozens of academic articles, mostly about art and architecture, many about history, a few about language. They’re all by experts in the fields - Dr. Oliver Thompson, Dr. James McKelvie, Dr. Griffin Griffould, to name a few. Once, between jobs and bored, Hardison runs them all through an analysis program he’s been tinkering with and discovers there’s a 97.8% probability every single one of those papers were written by the same author. He never mentions it, just like he never actually researches any of the authors. He’s never really sure why he doesn’t.

One article, however, holds a place of honor on Eliot’s desk where normal people would likely place a family photo.

_ Huguenots in the Hudson Valley _

_ How a Generation of Calvinists Defined a Century-Long Tradition of Architecture _

_ By Dr. Jacob Stone _

“What’s so special about this one?” Parker asks once.

Eliot, a little groggy from a concussion, smiles softly as he glances over from where he’s sprawled on his leather couch. “First one he published under his own name.”

* * *

Jake drops into the seat next to Cassandra. “Whatcha watchin’, Cassie?”

Cassie doesn’t even look away from the screen. “Baseball.”

“You like baseball?”

She hums happily. “Mhm. All the numbers,” she blushes. “And the pants don’t hurt.”

Jake chuckles.

“One of my favorite players kinda looks like you, actually.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He didn’t play for long. He was famous for all of, like, a day, but he was so good!” Cassie pauses the game and scrunches her nose up adorably. “Yeah, actually, you _ really _ look like him.” She hits play again. “He played catcher for the Palmerston Beavers. There!” She pauses it again. “Roy Chappell. You know, if you grew your hair out and had a couple scars…”

Bailey leans over her shoulder and scoffs. “Roy Chappell my ass. That’s Eliot Spencer. Hell of a right hook.” She grins evilly. “He doesn’t like me ‘cause I’m better with knives.”

Cassie spins so fast she almost knocks her laptop off the desk. “You _ know _ Roy Chappell?!”

Bailey shrugs. “Yeah. Runs a brew pub over in Portland. Good food, but the beer is hit or miss.”

“He does _ what_?” Jake growls.

Bailey quirks an eyebrow at him then narrows her eyes. “Got any siblings you haven’t told us about, handsome?” 

* * *

“Bridgeport Brew Pub, this is Amy.”

“Hi! I’d like to make a reservation for 10… no, 13. What? Okay, no Alex and Lin. 11. Jenkins, are you coming or not? Hell, okay, I’m sorry. 10. Reservation for 10. Thursday night, if that works. Under Bailey O’Connell.”

“One moment, please.” Bailey hears shuffling as Amy pulls the phone away from her ear to yell at someone in the background. “Hey, Eliot! You’re cooking Thursday night, right?”

She hears a muffled “Yeah!” in answer.

“Can you handle a party of 10?”

“Regulars?”

“Name’s Bailey O’Connell.”

Bailey smirks at the curses drifting faintly across the line. She counts at least 3 languages in the space of about 45 seconds.

“I take it he knows you?” Amy asks dryly, voice directly on the line again.

Bailey laughs. “He might at that.”

“He just told Hardison we’re closing for a private party Thursday night. I guess we’ll be seeing you then, Miss O’Connell.”

* * *

“Eliot, would you chill, man? It’s 10 people. You’ve cooked for like 200.”

Eliot growls. “It’s the O’Connell’s.”

“And that’s supposed to mean what, man? I can’t run background checks when all you’re giving me is a relatively common last name.”

The door swings open and a dark-haired young woman in jeans and a leather jacket steps in, grinning, before Eliot can answer.

“Bailey,” Eliot greets cautiously.

Bailey’s grin morphs into a mischievous smirk. “I’m not the one you’ve gotta worry about this time, Spencer.”

Bailey opens the door and Eliot barely has time to blink before a solid mass barrels into him. He lands hard on his back with a grunt and barely has time to register Jake’s face above him before he’s fending off blows.

He’s vaguely aware of the rest of the O’Connell clan -- and a few people he doesn’t know -- filtering in as he shoves Jake off and rolls to his feet.

Bailey hops up on the counter next to Parker. “Got any popcorn?”

Parker silently tilts a bowl of dry cereal toward her.

Bailey shrugs and grabs a handful as the fight unfolds.

Jake manages to get enough leverage on Eliot for a picture book throw into a window. The glass rattles ominously, but doesn’t crack.

Cairo shoots an impressed look at Parker as she and Ardeth hop the bar.

The thief shrugs. “Military grade ballistic glass.” 

The table Eliot lands on, however, does crack loudly. So does the table -- and the two chairs -- Jake rolls into when Eliot sweeps his feet out from under him. Bailey barely manages to swing her feet over the bar before the pair barrel into the barstool she was using as a footrest.

Jake lands a solid uppercut to Eliot’s jaw followed almost immediately by Eliot’s right hook to Jake’s cheek.

Ardeth grimaces. “Are we quite through watching this?”

“Please?” Cassie whimpers.

Cairo’s heart cracks as the redhead flinches when yet another table and set of chairs shatter.

“Cairo?” Ardeth nudges her and inclines his head toward the kitchen.

Cairo grins. She makes it all of three steps before Eliot manages to shove Jake halfway across the room and spin toward the kitchen. “Cairo, get the hell away from my kitchen!”

Cairo smiles sweetly at him. “Are you done acting like children?”

Eliot turns back to his brother. “We done?”

Jake closes the distance between them and clocks Eliot across the jaw hard enough to land him on his back again. “Now I'm done.”

Eliot stands, rubbing his jaw ruefully. “Someone finally taught you how to throw a punch, little brother.”

“He’s my favorite pupil,” Bailey says with a grin.

Eliot shoots her a glare.

Cairo takes another step toward the kitchen.

Eliot groans. “Ardeth, for the love of whatever you call holy, _ please _ get your wife the hell away from my kitchen.”

“Why can't she go in the kitchen?” Parker asks curiously.

Eliot points an accusing finger at Cairo. “The first time I ever met her, she blew my kitchen up. She didn't even have a bomb. She made one. Accidentally. _ Out of spices_.”

Cairo sighs nostalgically. “Good times.”

Eliot’s face turns red. “We have very different definitions of good.”

Cairo shrugs. “I didn’t like your employer. And technically it was his kitchen, so I don't feel bad.”

Eliot growls.

Bailey decides to intervene. “Right, as entertaining as it is to see Spencer get his ass handed to him, it really wouldn't be a fair fight, and I promised these people food. So you, go cook. We’ll shove the unbroken tables and chairs together.”

Eliot grumbles his way to the kitchen as the rest start putting the dining room to rights. 

“I don’t know y'all, so I'm not gonna make the mistake of doubting you, but I've seen Eliot take on a dozen guys. And there's only 10 of you,” Hardison leads.

“And 3 of you clearly aren't fighters,” Parker adds. 

“I've seen Eliot take on 7 guys at once every day of the week and twice on Sunday,” Hardison agrees.

“Yeah, but none of those guys were ever people that taught me half of what I know and kept even more to themselves,” Eliot says as exits the kitchen with two massive salad bowls in his hands.

“Excuse me?” Alec eyes the assorted group speculatively.

Eliot grimaces. “Later. Let’s eat. Salad’s up and chili is simmering.”

Cassie claps happily. “This looks yummy!”

Elio grins indulgently at the redhead’s enthusiasm. “Don’t think I caught your name, darlin’. I wouldn’t normally be so rude, but I was a little busy fending off my baby brother.”

“I am less than three minutes younger than you, asshole,” Jake protests.

Eliot ignores him.

Cassie frowns. “You kind of deserved it.”

Eliot sighs and takes the seat next to her. “Yeah, darlin’, I did.”

“Are you going to keep calling me “darlin’?”

Eliot chuckles. “You haven’t given me a name.”

“Oh!” Cassie blushes and holds out a hand. “Cassandra Cillian.”

“Nice to meet you, Cassandra. I’m Eliot.”

“I know,” Cassie bounces in her seat. “Bailey told me. I keep having to remind myself not to call you Roy, though.”

“Roy?” Eliot quirks an eyebrow.

Bailey throws a napkin at the hitter’s head. “She’s a baseball fan.”

Eliot laughs. “Got it.”

“You were my favorite player for, like, the one day you played, and then you just disappeared!”

Eliot shrugs. “All part of the job.”

“Alright, can we eat before all the attention goes to Eliot’s head?” Hardison cuts in.

“What’s in this salad? It looks amazing!” Cassie gushes.

Eliot’s indulgent grin returns as he explains the combination of green and red lettuces, feta cheese, red grapes, and toasted almonds, tossed with a sweet peach and poppy seed dressing. Cassie hums happily around her first forkful and Eliot fights the urge to bury his head in his arms. Her reactions to his chili, homemade sourdough, and creme brulee, her pure excitement and enjoyment, have her worming her way into Eliot’s heart faster than is good for his health and sanity.

He’s not surprised when Bailey follows him into the kitchen under the guise of helping with coffee.

He leans against the nearest wall and lets his head thunk back against the wall. “Is she always like that?”

Bailey grins. “So sweet and innocent it makes you hurt and utterly oblivious that she’s sexy as hell? Yeah. Always.”

Eliot groans.

“Spencer…”

“Don’t,” Eliot cuts her off. “I’m not gonna try anything, so don’t worry.”

His eyes snap open when Bailey laughs. “I actually kinda wish you would.”

Eliot narrows his eyes at her. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Bailey says, still smiling, “if you hurt her, I _ will _ kill you, slowly and painfully, and then let Cairo feed you to the yetis, but, and I will deny this to my nonexistent grave if you ever quote me on it, _ but _ I think you guys could be really good for each other.”

“There’s too much blood on my hands. I could never put that kind of target on her back.”

Bailey rolls her eyes. “Trust me Spencer, anyone stupid enough to go after that girl because of you would have more than just you to get through. And she deserves the chance. Up until two years ago she had a ticking bomb in her head. She deserves to live and you could be just the one to show how her how.”

*

Haridison is halfway to shitfaced drunk and still shaking his head at Eliot. “No. Immortality is not real. Magic is not real.”

Cairo rolls her eyes and pulls her switchblade from her boot. “Watch carefully, because I’m only gonna do this shit once.” She pushes her blade into the crook of her elbow and drags it cleanly down to her wrist. The flesh starts to knit itself back together before it can really start to bleed. Cairo wipes the blade clean on a nearby napkin and shoves the blade back into her boot while she absently shakes her healing arm. “Fuck! Why does that still hurt so bad when it doesn’t actually cause any damage?” She glances at Ardeth, glaring at her with pursed lips, and leans over to kiss him. “Sorry, babe. I know you hate it when I do that.”

Alec shakes his head harder. “No. It’s some kind of trick. Parker, why are you not arguing about this?”

Cairo’s eyes cloud over. Hardison startles back.

Cairo shakes her head and blinks and when her eyes land on Parker, they are clear and sad. “Because she knows better. Her brother had magic.”

Eliot nudges her shoulder gently. “That true, darlin’?”

Parker nods once, jerkily. “He… he always knew when someone was lying. It got,” she clears her throat and sniffles, “it got stronger as he got older. When he was really little, he would just cry when someone lied. Around the time he started talking clearly, he could tell the truth about what people were lying about. It made our parents fight a lot. He was only three… he didn’t understand that there were some things that you shouldn’t tell grown ups.”

Hardison gently tugs the blonde into his lap and wraps his arms around her loosely, letting her bury her face in his chest.

Once she gains her composure, Parker looks up at Cairo. “How did you know that?”

Cairo smiles softly. “I Saw him. He was a very bright little boy. Same light hair, but darker eyes.”

Parker tenses. “I don’t believe in psychics.”

Cairo laughs and smirks. “Neither do I. I’m not a psychic.”

“Then how did you know that?”

“Because I _ am _ a Seer.”

The thief frowns. “What’s the difference?”

“Psychics can pick and choose what they See at will. Seers, not so much. Me, for example? I See snippets of past and present that can somehow directly affect me.I have no control over what I See or when I See it.”

Parker’s frown deepens. “How does my brother affect you?”

“Because he affects you. And you’re my friend, so you affect me.”

*

Cassie is curled up in a corner booth, stirring her coffee absently as she silently calculates improved angles for the brew pub cameras when Eliot approaches.

He gestures to the seat opposite her with his coffee cup. “Mind if I join you?”

Cassie smiles and nods.

“You look like you’re thinking hard.”

She shakes her head. “Not really. I was just calculating the ideal angles for your cameras. They’re all several degrees off of offering maximum coverage.”

Eliot grins. “Be sure you tell Hardison that, darlin’.”

Cassie nods absently.

“Can I ask you something?”

Cassie focuses on him and gives a small nod.

“I know what your job is. I know you’ve seen bad things. How are you still so…” he gestures to her vaguely, unsure of an appropriate word.

She smiles a bit sadly. “I, um… I should be dead. Did you know that?”

Eliot’s brows draw together and he frowns, but nods. “Bailey mentioned somethin’ about a bomb.”

Cassie waves toward her head. “I had this tumor, in my brain. It was killing me. Doctors told me I wouldn’t live to see 26. The surgery was risky and it terrified me. I have this thing, with numbers.”

Eliot’s lips twitch upward. “Jake told me.”

“I thought that the tumor was what gave me the gift. I was terrified of losing the gift almost more than I was terrified of dying. But then I did the surgery and I still had my gift and it was so much _ more _ than before and I realized… I realized how little of my life I had actually _ lived _ and I decided to enjoy every second I have left.”

Eliot smiles softly. “The world would be a better place if more people thought like you, Cassie.”

Cassandra blushes.

“Would it be weird if I asked you to have dinner with me?”

Cassie cocks her head to the side. “Didn’t we just do that?”

Eliot can’t help it, he laughs and reaches across the table for her hand. “No, darlin’, I mean just the two of us. Like a date.”

“Would we go out or would you cook again?” Cassie asks before she can stop herself. She claps her free hand over her mouth and blushes deeper.

Eliot keeps laughing. “Whatever you want, Cassie.”

Cassie nods. “Yeah, I mean yes. I would love to have dinner with you.”

*

Parker hops up on the bar next to Jake and he jumps, tearing his glare from the corner where Eliot is laughing with Cassie.

He quirks an expectant eyebrow at the thief. “Help you with something?”

Parker peers down at him and eventually shrugs. “He has every article you’ve ever published in his office.”

Jake blinks at her. “What?”

“Eliot. In his office… he’s got a file drawer stuffed with the full articles, but the cover pages for all of them are framed all around his office. The first one you published under your own name he keeps right on his desk.”

Jake gapes at the thief.

Parker shrugs. “He’s really proud of you. He told Hardison once that he was the second smartest man he knew, but he would never tell us who the first was. I think he was probably talking about you.”

*

Eliot has no idea what Parker said to Jake, but his brother actually hugs him when the O’Connell’s and the Librarians leave in the wee hours of the morning. Eliot hugs him back tightly, trying to blink the tears back from his eyes, and failing when he sees Cassie beaming at them over Jake’s shoulder. “I missed you, little brother.”

“I missed you too, El.”

* * *

“You’re fucking kidding me? You finally got up the spine to tell Dad the truth and it was some monster?” Eliot takes a long swig of his beer. “Like, not Dad kind of monster, but actual monster?”

Jake tips his own bottle toward Eliot. “Yeah.”

Eliot shakes his head. “That’s bullshit.”

Jake shrugs. “You haven’t gone home?”

Eliot starts peeling the label back on his bottle. “Tried once a few years ago. He wasn’t home.”

Jake scoffs. “Probably for the best.”

Eliot shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Next time we can go back together?”

Eliot nods. “Yeah… yeah, we can do that.”

* * *

“Who is your new young man?” Ardeth asks as he settles behind her and hooks his chin over her shoulder.

Cairo stares down at her sketch pad. “I have a suspicion, but…”

He wraps his arms around her waist and squeezes gently. “Tell me.” 

She shakes her head. “If I’m wrong…”

He pulls back and nudges her to face him. “Love, it has been many decades since your Sight was something to bear alone. Talk to me.”

Cairo reluctantly meets his eyes. “I think he’s Parker’s brother.”


End file.
